


There's No Colouring Around Us Anymore

by Ukthxbye



Series: drabbles and prompts [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, Biological Weapons, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Medical, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-The Final Problem, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, St Bartholomew's Hospital, Terrorism, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 07:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16656451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: Sherlock and Molly working on a corpse discover something that will change their lives.





	There's No Colouring Around Us Anymore

Molly Hooper lifted her head turning it oddly as she squinted. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, “What is it?”

 

“Sorry, that just felt weird, that cut.”

 

He cautiously came around to stand her side, “How so?”

 

“It felt like...”

 

She paused and dug in the lower right side of the corpse and palmed something she knew wasn’t an organ.

 

 _Drugs? No... oh no, something much worse,_ he thought.

 

“Molly…”

 

There’s a hint of panic in his throat, she read it immediately. In her hands lay a punctured balloon, with small granules of white powder spilling from the cut she made.

 

His hand steady, cupped the underside of hers. Her’s shaking, he aided her putting the found object back on the body gently, to not disturb the powder more. He released her hand and stepped to the end of the table. Covering the body up, she remained rooted in place.

 

“Take your gloves off,” she breathed.

 

He caught her eyes, and they stared without a word for a few breaths.

 

“Protocol. Put them with the body and we’ll wash our hands here to help keep the door handle clean. I’ll call my supervisor and police and then we will leave the room.”

 

She spoke clear and unhurried, steadfast as she has always been in his mind. She assured him to see what his Mind Palace held revealed before him.

 

He waited while she washed her hands, and followed, scrubbing well. The phone on the wall near the door had a speed dial for both, and she calmly told her supervisor of the suspicious powder.

 

“Anthrax powder...yes I am pretty sure,” she said quietly.

 

Her face scrunched and Sherlock moved a step closer to her but she put her hand up. “Look I’d test it myself but I’d rather follow procedure here, ok? We’ll meet staff in the hall. Yes, only Sherlock Holmes and I were exposed. I am calling the police now,” she irritatedly relayed and set the receiver down firmly.

 

“I can call the police for--”

 

“No... sorry, he is just new and a pain in the arse. I got this,” she said.

 

The police blessedly were straightforward and short. _I am sure Sherlock has this sussed out but now is not the time,_ she thought as she hung up the phone

 

“Clothing?”

 

“Yes… I’ll get some bags. Double bag each one” she answered not looking at him as she went to a shelf, pulling several large plastic bags. She grabbed two gowns as well. _They can just burn them in the end, I’m not standing naked in the hall and not going to make him either_ , she thought.

 

He already had his jacket off, holding it reverently folded in his hands, staring at it for a moment.

 

“I’m sorry, Sherlock.” She swallowed hard as she handed him several bags.

 

He poked out his bottom lip and sighed through his nose, “I have the worst luck with coats at St. Barts it seems.”

 

She snickered, putting her hand to mouth, but a smile crept into the corner of his lips letting her know he was indeed joking.

 

But the awkwardness remained in the air.

 

“We should do this quickly. I’ll get changed over there to preserve modesty,” he said in a throaty voice and he turned around toward the corner.

 

 _You don’t have to on my account,_ she mused but kicked herself internally for it. _Keep your mind on the fact you have just been exposed to anthrax, remember?_

 

“I am a doctor you don’t have to...but ok,” she managed.

 

But they both knew even if they did not say why this was different.

 

She went to another corner.

 

The dead are quiet; every zipper and shift of clothing perceptible in the morgue empty except them.

 

Molly quickly stripped off her clothes, shoving them in the plastic bags.

 

Sherlock had beaten her in that race and when he looked up he saw the back of her naked form reflected in a placard on the wall. He should look away, he told himself as he stared nonetheless, recording angles that he may never be able to ignore again.

 

He then realized she had not given him a gown.

 

She slipped hers on, tying the strings and saw his there before her.

 

“Um Molly…” he spoke up.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you a gown, I have it here,” she gulped.

 

“I’ll come get it,” he said as nonchalantly as he could muster, slipping his pants back on.

 

As he came around her, she saw he had pants and she felt at ease to look him over before he slipped on the gown and began tying it.

 

“We have to shower next, am I correct?” he asked, to keep their minds on the task ahead.

 

She nodded, looking away to the door as he slipped his pants off and headed back for his clothes.

 

“Everything double bagged?”

 

He nodded, holding a handful of clothing.

 

“Let’s go out the hall, and I’ll lock the door. Staff appears to be down the hall where an emergency shower is,” she said, returning a business-like tone to her voice to both their comforts.

 

Staff greeted them all suited up, taking their clothes from them and leading them down the hall.

 

There was only one shower, and Sherlock volunteered to go first.

 

She should have left the room; she knows she could stand in the hall. But she went in and even though staff went to the other side of the room, she remained in view as he stripped and slipped into the shower.

 

 _Maybe this is better, keeps the mystery away right? Because we are friends,_ she thought to herself.

 

Sherlock wasn’t one for modesty normally but even in her flat when he used it,  he tried to maintain it. He thought as he scrubbed himself down with the awful drying soap why this felt like Sherrinford again, exposed once more for an audience to see their emotions laid bare in the grip of danger. Once more catching her in a trap set up for him. And his heart ached as he watched her attempt to feign no interest in him right now.

 

“There’s a paper suit and shoes just outside the shower for you Mr. Holmes,” a nurse murmured through a mask, setting them in a chair.

 

He grabbed the towel, drying haphazardly in the shower and he slipped on the suit before stepping out. He stepped out in the hall as she took her shower.

 

She thought the moments of almost with him. She contemplated the gravity of what just happened but her logical mind knew they would likely be ok. This was all just precaution and procedure. But once again she found herself in danger, and it is easily determined he was the target. Perhaps she as well?

 

Once she was in her matching suit, they were led upstairs to a private hospital room with two beds and a chair.

 

Quiet once again while they waited on the nurse.

 

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse burst through the door loudly,

 

“Oh Ms. Hooper, how dreadful this whole ordeal and the hospital in an uproar! But don’t you worry we will take good care of you,” the older woman blurted.

 

The nurse smiled handing Molly a bundle of blue fabric, "I got you two some scrubs, which’ll be a sight more comfortable I am sure." She cut her eyes back at Sherlock, her face shifted from all it sweetness to rebuke. He raised an eyebrow at her but she turned back to Molly returning to her original smile.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Parsh. Mr. Holmes and I greatly appreciate the kindness,” she smiled, looking at Sherlock.

 

A simple “thank you ‘ was all he said as Molly handed him a pair of scrubs and he went into the room lavatory to change.

 

Once more a moment to consider modesty and he was tiring of it.

 

He knocked on the door to alert her he wanted to come out, “ Are you changed?”

 

“Yes, all clear.”

 

Sherlock emerged and flopped down on the bed near him. Molly sat on hers.

 

“So…”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said with a low voice leaping up from the bed and pacing to the wall where he leaned.

 

“Oh for God sakes, for what?” she breathed out, the day's irritation catching up.

 

“For putting you in danger.”

 

“Which there was no way you could have predicted; you aren’t clairvoyant... I think,” she mumbled.

 

He threw his head back in frustration, then returned his chin to his chest. “Still, I asked for your help.”

 

“With something very much my specialty? Not a special request it would have happened to someone. Better it's me and you,” she shrugged.

 

He stared at her. “How so?”

 

She laughed, that sort of throaty laugh that causes panic to rise in his throat. Her head fell forward, and she shut her eyes missing his gulp.

 

“Because you and I are accustomed to such things, that's all.”

 

“Me, yes. You, no,” Sherlock moved toward her angling his head to capture her eyes, but she stared at her feet.

 

“Well, I have done many a thing for you that isn’t exactly normal. Or even legal. Or safe. “She rubbed her forehead with her fingers, feeling the pressure tightening her muscles to an ache.

 

“Molly...I fear…” he paused as she put her chin down again but then turned her head just enough to catch his eyes with hers. “I fear you might be targeted...caught in the targets meant for me.”

 

He swallowed hard, feeling his own heartbeat in his head throb. This was nearing to the crux of the concern, words he felt unprepared to admit again, once more under the duress of outside forces.

 

“You let John take those risks and you love him.” She raised her head, her shoulders squaring back.

 

"Like a brother, like family and you know how I am with my brother. John signed up, went to war he knows what to do and the risk--"

 

“What am I then a delicate flower--” her voice raising now but he matched it.

 

“No, don’t be ridiculous but--”

 

"Then why do you treat me like one? If I am your friend, then let me be one. What am I supposed to think? You treat me with kid gloves and you have since that phone call you barely discussed with me and details about your sister. Tell me what you really think of me or--"

 

“Because I love you too much!” he shouted, as she stared at him.

 

They both breathed a few moments eyes searching the other’s face. Her eyes widened in shock but she did not relent

 

“I know you love me…” she said with a gulp. “I knew well before you had to say the words to me... but how much is greatly in question.”

 

He threw his hands up frustration, but even that was half-hearted as he slumped into a chair against the wall loudly.

 

“I believed... I knew it would be the end of my exceptionally focused mind. That all I would think about is…”

 

Her face fell into a softness of understanding and knowing and his heart sunk in his chest at the realization

 

“Keeping you safe...  I always do now” he swallowed as he finished the thought.

 

“So then I’ll let you suss out what that means.” She laid back softly on her bed, wrapping her arms across her chest.

 

The weight of the day sat heavy on her chest and a deep sigh did not rid of her of it heft as she wished. She closed her eyes, listening to him breathing slowly in his chair and to faint beeps down the hallway. Cars below if she really concentrated. But nothing cleared her head of the noise of her own heartbeat in her ears, beating still much too fast.

 

He barely disturbed the bed as he sat at her hip. She squeezed her eyes tighter and folded her hands on her stomach.

 

“I am so sorry,” he mumbled out each word deliberately, a stray finger brushing her arm only just.

 

She shrugged a bit moving her arm, “We just discussed this. I need more specifics on what you are sorry for.”

 

Her eyes remained closed and her heartbeat pulsed all the louder.

 

“For every day, for every moment I squandered,” he murmured low.

 

The sudden bed shift compelled her to open her eyes at the last moment as his nose brushed against hers. He paused there, then his lips found hers, achingly soft and hesitant.

 

“There’s no taking this back, Sherlock, you know this?” she warned with a whisper against his mouth, looking up at his eyes best she could with his head so close.

 

He nodded, rubbing his nose gently against hers.

 

“I’m still not sure if you do--”

 

"Shhh" slipped through his lips, the air caressing her lips shattering her obstinacy.

 

Her lips met his, scarcely holding back the urge to take all of what she desired for years. But he kept it all so chaste and she can’t help but match in the light caresses.

 

 _Ok, maybe they are what I wanted after all_ she muses. Her muscles ache from her restraint and her hands go up to his chest and around to his back to relieve some of that tension. He grinned mid-kiss, and she mirrored it. Her breath suddenly knocked out her as he rested his chest against hers and he caught it deepening the kiss. She shuddered as his tongue ran slowly across her bottom lip and then found the tips of her to gently play with. She matched every action of his, lost in his tutelage of how to savor each other.

 

All went fuzzy in her mind, lost in sensation she only could yearn for until today. “I love you” said and done, but never completed. But her thoughts returned as he lifted off her, to stare in her eyes once more.

 

“I--” she started but found no words.

 

“I know,” he said low. “But it is almost time for the nurse to begin our antibiotics.”

 

Her chest ached as he sat back up next to her hip.

 

“Move over.”

 

Her face fell into confusion, “What?”

 

“Move over I’m going to lay with you,” Sherlock smiled softly. “If you want that is, if not--”

 

She immediately moved with her side against the railing and he sat back against the pillow.

 

She timidly settled her head into his chest at his shoulder and he adjusted his arm so he could stroke her hair.

 

“It goes wavy if I don’t brush it after I shower,” she murmured, not sure why she decided to say it. But she put her hand his chest and pulled her body against his side with more certainty.

 

“Mine goes quite curly,” he replied, though she sensed in his voice his thoughts were deeper than mere hair texture.

 

They both laid in quiet for a few moments and then he spoke again. She soaked up his already low voice reverberating through his ribcage into her ear against it. She decided then and there that this is her favorite sound besides his heartbeat.

 

“So many details I collected over the years, believing a complete image of you rested in my mind. But now that I am close enough to touch it... you... oh so many pieces missing. I’ll never tire of adding to that image as long as I live.”

 

“That sounds like a marriage proposal.” She laughed softly as she snuggled in tighter against his side.

 

But she stiffened as he did not share in her laugh and she sat up suddenly.

 

His gaze steady and his lips set in the tiniest of smiles. But there was nothing of jest only earnest emotions and she swallowed hard at the thought.

 

“Sherlock, you aren’t serious.”

 

“You told me there was no going back.”

 

“I meant... I mean... well” the words tripped out her mouth in stumbles.

 

“We have wasted many years, well not wasted, but perhaps delayed the full earnings of our efforts.”

 

“But we only just kissed.”

 

“Was it not sufficient evidence? Perhaps another experiment is in order.”

 

She opened her mouth to answer him but his lips captured hers before she could speak.

Where the earlier kissing was so achingly tender and slow, this one a contrast. Wet and fast. His tongue not teasing but possessing. His hand held the base of her skull, keeping her tight in the kiss. Not that she didn't reciprocate once the initial fog cleared. Her hand found its way forward and pulled on the scrub shirt roughly as the fire she felt in her lips traveled to the rest of her body. With a moan, he pulled away from her grazing his teeth across her lips. She followed a bit forward, missing his lips.

 

As she opened her eyes, she spied his devilish smirk.

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“How so?”

 

She took a shuddered breath as she rubbed her hands on her thighs.

 

“The things I want to do to you right now are not appropriate for the setting.”

 

“Oh...I see! you don’t feel like waiting until our wedding night for such things?” he feigned shock.

 

But she knew this was in jest and she smirked in response as he grinned.

 

“Gonna to be lucky if we even make it past the door tomorrow,” she bit her bottom lip at the thought.

 

“So I take it the proposal is accepted?” he asked knowingly, one eyebrow cocked up.

 

“Yes, Sherlock Holmes,” she answered with hooded eyes that strayed to watch his lips.

 

But sadly the nurses arrived for their antibiotics. She slipped off the edge of the bed to her feet awkwardly.

 

The lead nurse gave a cautious frown as she looked at them both, the flush in their skin must too obvious for them to hide.

 

She checked vitals and only commented, “Heart rate is a bit elevated but no fever.”

 

She and the other nurse set up the IV ports and set the drips in silence and exited with a smirk.

 

Once she was gone they timed another long snogging session minus one hand that again left them wanting as the nurse returned to disconnect the antibiotics.

 

Hands on hips, exasperation colored the nurse’s voice.

 

“You two please get some sleep. Actually, sleep and stop whatever you're doing you are screwing with my vitals data. I’ll have to separate you two because frankly, it’s bloody embarrassing letting the floor doctor know why these numbers aren’t a concern.”

 

They nodded sheepishly, and she left them with a terse smile.

 

But they both found themselves tired and curled up once again on one hospital bed.

 

In the morning, they remained asleep tightly clinging to each other, legs entwined, her head tucked under his chin.

 

This is how John and Greg found them when they arrived with a change of clothes for them both.

 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Greg whistled and John stood arms folded. Sherlock and Molly both woke and shot up from the bed suddenly.

 

“No, no need to get up we just brought you a change of clothes since they are destroying yours,” John smugly grinned.

 

“Hello John,” Sherlock grinned back.

 

“Hey Greg,” Molly said biting her lip self consciously.

 

“I owe Anderson money. Thanks, guys,” Greg rocked on his heels as he dropped the satchel and put his hand in his pockets.

 

“So you made wagers on my love life? And I thought we were friends, Gavin,” Sherlock answered with narrowed eyes.

 

“Its Greg, she literally just said my name” he gritted through his teeth as he folded his arms staring at Sherlock.

 

John sighed and plopped down in the chair against the wall.

 

“So dating now? Just took some anthrax powder then?”

 

Molly’s mouth opened to speak but Sherlock beat her to it.

 

“Engaged, to be precise,” he replied plainly but turned his eyes to Molly with a tender smile that made her knees wobble more than she cared to admit right now.

 

Greg’s jaw dropped but John huffed and laughed.

 

Something triggered in Molly and she only realized her own words after she spoke

 

“Yes, engaged and you two aren't very perceptive if Anderson beat you the conclusion. Thank you for bringing the clothes, but we aren’t in the mood for an inquest at this time. I’d personally like to have a real shower, so you two gonna take us home?”

 

Greg clamped his mouth shut and John rubbed his face as he stood up, handing her the clothes. Sherlock gave a little shrug and smug smile as he grabbed the other clothes near Greg.

 

“Thank you, and we’ll meet you outside the room once we get changed,” she advised, losing a bit of the fire at the end but the two men left without a word.

 

They changed quickly, not caring for modesty. The gaze between each other once dressed let the other know they were temporary until they could get to her flat.

 

The atmosphere in the car ride to her place was mostly awkwardly quiet, minus a promise to explain later and a short deduction from Sherlock on the next steps in investigation Greg needed to follow.

 

And once at her flat, they did barely make it past the door before they found each other's lips for the rest of the day and night.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks to Mouse9 for the encouragement 
> 
> tumblr prompt from an Anon. three words: quarantine, morgue, separated  
> I took some liberties with it. 
> 
> title from Kevin Garrett's "Coloring" lyric. I did the British spelling.
> 
> The protocol they follow is pretty much standard in NHS for finding anthrax powder. I looked it up and likely I am on a list now. *waves at FBI


End file.
